


Appropriate Action

by My_Young_Friend



Category: Ravenous (1999)
Genre: Bloodplay, Caning, Community: kink_bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-10
Updated: 2010-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-10 01:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Young_Friend/pseuds/My_Young_Friend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his youth at school he'd been caned more than once and could barely believe that this monster thought it a means of punishment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appropriate Action

"You know, Boyd, your insubordination has truly gone far enough." Ives lounged in Hart’s old chair, Hart

himself to the side of Boyd, half bodyguard, half conspirator.

Boyd spoke calmly. "If you mean my refusal to accept you as an officer, and my numerous attempts to expose you as the monster that you are, then I do not believe that to be insubordination."

Ives smiled condescendingly. "And yet your superiors do.”

He stood and circled the desk, standing toe to toe with Boyd.

“I have been granted full and proper permission to deal with you as I see fit.”

Ives was so close that Boyd could feel his hot breath with every word. When Ives paused, Boyd risked a look down and saw only a predatory look in his eyes. Ives turned on his heel and looked out of the window.

“Slauson in particular advocated a hanging. I see no need to go that far."

Boyd was tired of Ives theatrics. "What could you possibly do to me out here that you haven't already done? I'm trapped, chained and fed only human flesh."

"Oh come now, Boyd!” Ives clapped his hands together, smiling broadly. “You underestimate me. I'm a creative man, mind racing with ideas. One, in particular, strikes me."

Ives strode to the cabinet in the corner of the room. Opening the doors just enough to obscure both the contents and himself. Hart withdrew, looking back a little nervously at Boyd. The small, almost apologetic glance unnerved him.

"Yes, I think this will do."

Ives slammed the doors to the cabinet shut, finally allowing Boyd to witness the article of his punishment.

It was a cane.

Boyd began to laugh. In his youth at school he'd been caned more than once and could barely believe that this monster thought it a means of punishment. He'd expected more of him.

"I am glad you find this amusing, Captain. I myself have always been very partial to the switch. The sharp sound as it whips through the air, the satisfying smack of cane on skin, the bright red welts it leaves behind. Did you know that, if you are sufficiently adept, you can in fact slice the skin open?"

Ives directed Boyd to a table, one of the few things Ives had brought with him from whatever hellhole he'd crawled back to before returning to the Fort. Boyd obeyed, waiting patiently as Ives unshackled his hands. He stripped off his shirt and waited.

"Well Boyd, much as I appreciate your physique, there was really no need to remove your uppermost clothing."

More humiliation. It was Ives way, after all. Boyd began to unbutton his fly, looking straight ahead, fully aware that Ives was watching his fingers with a deviant, hungry expression. As he pushed his pants and long-johns down to his knees, Ives reached for his wrist and pulled it forward, forcing him to bend painfully over the too-short table. Holding his arm in place, Ives reached under the table and Boyd heard the rattle of a chain as Ives pulled up a shackle. He secured it around Boyd's wrist and walked around the front of the table, watching as Boyd stared defiantly back at him, even from his cramped and uncomfortable position.

 A second cuff was produced from beneath the table and Boyd was now held firmly in place. He was under no illusions as to the purpose of the shackles - Ives did not fear that he would run or fight back. He only wished to force Boyd to bend in such a way that his ass was high in the air. The fact that this was achingly uncomfortable was merely a bonus.

 Ives completed his circle around the table, and Boyd heard him pick up the switch.

"Will I be calling them out like a child?" He bit out, angrily.

"Oh I shouldn't worry about that. There will be far too many and I would hate for you to lose count." Ives punctuated the remark with his first strike. There was no sting as Boyd remembered from his childhood. Instead there was a sharp slice of pain. Another slice with the next and third until Boyd stopped counting and ground his teeth together, hard. He would not give Ives the satisfaction of hearing his pain.

"Taking it like a man, are we?" Thwack "Of course you are." Thwack "But you see" Thwack "I will keep going" Thwack "Until I hear you scream."

Boyd could begin to feel a trickle down the back of his legs. He didn't need to see it to know that it was his blood. The initial numbness that followed the first slices had begun to fade, replaced by a throbbing pain that only emphasised each new hit.

Gritted teeth or no, he couldn't hold back a grunt of pain on the next impact. Three more and there were audible groans.

"Good, good, Boyd." Thwack "Keep it up." Ives chose that moment to strike across an already sore piece of skin. Boyd had no time to brace and no time to hold back his scream of pain. As if buoyed by it, Ives intensified the caning, hitting now only the previously sensitive skin. Boyd could barely think for the pain, only fearing that Ives was criss-crossing the bloody scratches already inflicted. The flow of blood down his legs grew stronger and Boyd began to feel them buckle, both from the pain and position.

"I think that's enough of that then," Ives said, as though doing nothing more distasteful than listening to a substandard musician.

He walked to the top of the table again, bending down when in front of Boyd to ensure he was at eye level.

"Hmm, not very comfortable, is it?" Ives sympathised.

Boyd was breathing too deeply to care. The beating may have stopped but the pain of his raw flesh was still acute. There was a metallic sound beneath him and suddenly he could move his arms. He tried to stand, found not quite enough slack, but more than enough to take the pressure off his back. One less ache, however, did nothing to help the bleeding skin and muscle of his ass.

"Better?" Ives enquired, again as though this were the most normal thing in the world. Boyd couldn't even muster a look of disgust.

Ives came round the table and moved to pat him on the shoulder. Boyd flinched and Ives grin deepened, taking on a feral edge.

"You see Boyd, I've always believed punishment should not be gratuitous." He stopped, as though considering something. "Well, not _just_ gratuitous. It should also be educational. For example, I'm going to show you that you are every bit the monster that I am."

"I," Boyd croaked. He swallowed and tried again. "I am nothing like you."

"I beg to differ." Ives withdrew his knife and sliced a gash diagonally along his first and middle fingers. Boyd could smell the blood, different to his own, enticing, stirring up an ache that came from no muscle. He licked his parched lips and tried not to move forward as Ives slowly moved the fingers in front of him, drawing intricate patterns in the air. Boyd couldn't take his eyes off them. He watched as a droplet formed at the bottom of the cut, watched as it filled and filled, growing ever larger until it eventually fell.

Boyd fell with it, lunging forward to bite the fingers, taking them into his mouth and sucking the vile, exquisite liquid down. He could hear Ives laughing, couldn't tell whether it was real or just in his head. In his fury he hadn't noticed Ives move behind him again, wrapping an arm around his neck to ensure his fingers never left Boyd's mouth. Boyd failed to notice anything until the fingers were withdrawn and he was left gasping.

Adrenaline coursed through him again; he felt like he could break the shackles if he wanted, that he would show Ives that he had no idea what he was dealing with. He pulled hard at his bonds but they did nothing more than rattle. He pushed at the table, which creaked but failed to move.

"I wouldn't bother, Boyd. It's nailed quite securely to the floor." Ives was running his hands down Boyd's back, slowly tracing muscles, scars, all the indentations and lines.

Boyd was even more filled with the desire to beat Ives into submission. He writhed with his chains, pulled them this way and that, striving to break them.

"Now Boyd, if you don't calm down, I'll have to tighten them again."

"Fuck you, Ives!"

"A tempting offer, but maybe another time. For now, let me try and help you work out that overexcitement that you seem to be struggling with."

Boyd didn't care what Ives was saying, all he could hear were the screams in his head as he tore the man to pieces, crushing his bones, slicing his flesh - the things he would do to Ives when he was finally free. The thrill of it surged through him

"What _are_ you thinking of, Captain?" Ives smirked and grabbed at Boyd's slowly hardening cock. Boyd hadn't even realised that he was becoming aroused. He bucked backwards, trying to escape Ives' grasp and got nothing but intense pain as he banged his raw flesh into the rough wool of Ives' pants, the scratches causing the slow stream of blood to grow faster.

"Let me help you Boyd." The sound came still from behind Boyd, but from further down. Ives must be crouching, bending down for something. Boyd had no time to think further as he felt Ives lick the length of one of his bleeding wounds. He shuddered through the pain, the friction confusing him. He was losing the ability to think and all the sensations were blending into one - the aching, sharp pain of the slices; the unwelcome but stimulating pleasure of Ives fingers stroking his growing erection; the wet, lascivious texture of Ives tongue against his overly sensitive skin.

He braced himself forward, clinging desperately to the edges of the table while he tried to fight his way through a wave of sensation. Still Ives continued, one hand on his cock, another steadying himself on Boyd's hips while he worshipped the bleeding cheeks with his tongue, feasting on Boyd's pain as much as his blood.

Without warning, Ives sucked down hard on the freshest of Boyd's wounds. He could feel the blood being drawn from him, the light-headedness began to return and his head began to swim. Ives stopped, no gulping swallow, instead the sound of Ives unbuttoning his own breeches and of fabric falling to the floor. Ives spat something out and breathed hard into Boyd's ear.

"I hope you're ready, Boyd." His hand squeezed hard on Boyd’s now fully erect cock. Boyd turned his head to snap at Ives only to e distracted as Ives pressed two wet fingers inside him. He cried out angrily, as much at the violation as the pain it caused. The fingers moved around, pushing at him from the inside and then were withdrawn. he heard a wet sound behind him and refused to speculate as to its cause.

"I'm going to kill you, Ives!" he yelled. "I'm going to tear you apart!"

Ives chuckled behind him and then drove in, hard. Boyd was pushed into the table, his cock crushed against the edge but still Ives hand kept moving.

Ives pulled back out, pushed in again and the pain was intense, inside and out. He yelled, he cursed, he swore death on Ives in any number of inventive and descriptive ways and still Ives laughed at him. His invective grew louder as his orgasm built, finally exploding out of him, a rush of release.

The adrenaline, the pain, the dark hunger and unwelcome desire all merged into one pure burst that knocked the air out of him. He couldn't feel anything; he could feel everything. He didn't even notice when Ives finished and withdrew, when his legs buckled beneath him and left him kneeling on the bare boards, breeches still hooked around his calves and arms suspended above him by the length of his chains.

He breathed hard, tried to regain control of his body. He shuddered through wave after wave of white hot sensation. Gradually the roar in his ears died down and was replaced with the silence of the room. Finally there was the rhythmic thump of boots of wooden boards. Ives knelt down to the side of Boyd, their faces level. Boyd could feel him staring but couldn't bring himself to raise his head. He couldn't look the devil in the eye.

"Just remember, Boyd," Ives whispered. "Remember how you vowed to kill me, to crush me, break me and destroy me. Remember how hard it made you come."

Boyd closed his eyes in bitter realisation. A man no more, he was a monster in a man's shell.


End file.
